Ring of Fate
by Star-Dragon-Heart
Summary: (FanFiction based by Ring of Fate by HikaruRonde of Fiction Press) Eden, the city of Death, as dubbed by some of it's residents. In the city, 'volunteers' are forced to fight for the daily amusement of the city, for those who have the comfort of a normal home each night. Dog tags are traded, money is lost; but, for those who collect all 13 Zodiac dog tags, a grand treasure awaits.
1. Chapter 1

Kisthæ huffed sotftly as she pulled her dog tags over her head. She felt her fingers brush over the zodiac symbol for Virgo. She lifted the tag up, and stared at it intensely, feeling as if it was more of a personal death sentence handed to her by the law rather than her wanting to fight for her living.

She dropped the dog tags, letting them bounce against her chest, until she decided to pull the Ring that she was handed from the pockets of her mid-thigh, bouncy skirt. It was a black, shiny toy to her, really; a child's dream and fantasy come real, conjuring images of Victorian children playing with ball-jointed, lily-lace dressed dolls.

The ring, in her absentmindedness, had slipped onto her finger.

Before Kisthæ stood now a man, who stared right back at her with creamy-white and violet eyes. He held his hand on his hips, and tossed his head back, disturbing the soft golden hair that jaggedly fell towards his cheeks.

To Kisthæ, he seemed like a Victorian Vampire Goth come to life; he had the perfect clothes for one, too – a pirate-designed overcoat with a red base, black strappings and black belt-ties. Underneath, he wore a white Renaissancal blouse, with black 'bloomers' and dark brown boots. The whole ensemble made him quite an intimidating person, with his hand now on his scabbard and taking a more victorious stance.

"I take it you're the one who summoned me?" he asked, in a very old accent, that sounded almost as if it came from the former Scotland.

"I would imagine I am, yes," Kisthæ replied hesitantly.

When he did not reply a second time, she carefully pulled her right leg behind her left, and bent slowly in the fashion of a curtsey. He seemed stunned, though he respectfully bowed back, bending his right arm – with his left still on the scabbard – over his stomach and bowing back to Kisthæ.

"My name is Elfrið, madame, and I'm happy to make your acquaintance. I specialize in sword to sword combat, although I have also worked on stealth attacks, and have mastered the art of firing one arrow every ten minutes." He said the last part with a grin, and Kisthæ couldn't help but grin as well.

"Elfrið, my name is Kisthæ. I guess I'm your new Master." She looked around herself, tugging slightly at the thin jacket she wore. "We should be moving. It's too early to see anybody out and about – at least, this close to the gates, but I wouldn't want to run any risks. And it's far too damn cold."

Elfrið nodded. He pulled his jacket off, as if to offer it to Kisthæ, but she waved him away and started walking.

It was silence that simply hung in the air, never moving, and it appeared to have the intentions of staying for a while. Kisthæ, personally, did not see the need to mess with it; her companion, however, had different ideas, and decided to push for a conversation.

"How old are you?" he asked.

Kisthæ paused mid-stride, but quickly picked up her pace, and looked straight at the ground in her nervousness. "I'm 24," she whispered, hoping he didn't hear. But, Elfrið had heard, and nodded. She continued to speak, asking him, "Dare I ask how old you are? I can't imagine you're any younger than me."

Elfrið laughed. He grinned at her, and continued laughing, the small clicks of his heels against the pavement swept away by the noise. When he was done, which seemed to be a while to Kisthæ, Elfrið turned to her and said, ''I've been wandering the Soul Realms for... nigh... 6,500 years? Yeah. Something about that.''

He shrugged, whereas Kisthæ simply stared at him with her mouth open and gaping at finally realised that he had stopped, and turned to her with a questioning glare. ''Is everything alright, Kisthæ?'' he asked, concerned.

She simply continued staring. ''You're... You're like, 6,550 years old. Holy fuck. Do you expect me to be calm over this?''

''I expect you to ask rationally, that is all I ask for,'' came the reply. ''I asked to be a Ring Soul a few hundred years ago, or so, but they haven't accepted me until now.'' The soul shrugged, and continued walking, not bothered at all whether Kisthæ followed or not.

She pushed herself to continue walking just as he did, until Elfrið stopped in front of the building that they were to enter. He knew Kisthæ was about to ask a question of why he stopped, and he held up his hand, silencing any noise that was to come from her.

''You're being challenged,'' he whispered. ''You can either forfeit now and basically end your time here in the battle-zone, or life in general. Or I can fight for you, my liege, with no guarantee at all how this fight will turn out.'' Elfrið had angled his head, so that he neither stared at Kisthæ nor did he speak to the challenger.

''Just go for it already, Kilbert.''

''Yes, sir.''

Streaking from the side of the building was a black figure, seemingly cloaked in the shadows as it moved straight for Elfrið. His sword was out of his scabbard in a moment, and the clash of steel against steel was ringing throughout the street.

The ninja-like stealther had his sword pulled away in a moment, cutting under Elfrið's sword in a double-ribbon arc, hoping to either sever his left leg or cut his hip severely, possibly injuring later movement.

Kisthæ's spirit jumped hastily to the right, dodging around his enemy and slashing in a straight half-circle as he did so. The steel met flesh, but it was quickly removed in a second movement, leaving little to no damage at all.

For the next few moments, all the sound that was heard was the constant clanging of steel. Kisthæ noticed how effortlessly Elfrið seemed to block every movement, although she could hear him having difficulties breathing already.

Eventually, he managed to swing his sword solely with his right hand, kick at his legs, and rch out with his left hand to place another object to avoid. His sword cut, and he kicked the spirit to the ground, holding his sword gracefully over it's throat.

''The battle is over,'' he announced to Kisthæ, standing and gently cleaning his sword with the hood from the other spirit's cape. To the challenging Master, Elfrið said, ''I demand your tags. And half of whatever money you have.''

The old man took his tags off his neck, and threw them to the ground, along with several discolored green paper bills. He stormed off into the building, and Elfrið picked them up for Kisthæ, gently dusting off the tags before presenting them while kneeling on his right knee.

''What chivalry,'' she teased, taking his prizes with a smile. ''Thank you, Elfrið. Thank you so much. I don't think I'd be alive very long without you by my side.''

''Kisthæ, that's just the first fight. Please, do not expect me to win every time. I will never have such luck with any sole Master, therefore, I apologise to you for such a fate.'' Elfrið dusted off his knee as he stood, and opened the door for Kisthæ as she stepped inside the building.

A cool wave of air brushed over them. She felt the air, and paused, spreading her arms to let the air flood over her. It lasted for only a few moments until she was pushed to the side b her Spirit, and Kisthæ started walking up the stairs.

''I'm afraid I'll be leaving you, dear, but only for a few hours; these wounds require healing which I doubt you can give to me.'' Elfrið was waiting at the base of the stairs, and as soon as the last echo of his words had disappeared, he was gone as well.

Kisthæ simply continued climbing. It would have done no good to stop now, since she had a few more flights to go, although she still knew that Elfrið would be there when she needed him. She took off the ebony Ring and placed it back in her skirt pocket, pulling the jacket off when she realized that she was finally on the fifth level. Her level.

She opened the door that led to the various apartments, and closed her eyes before walking. She kept them closed, and opened them when she felt she was at the right spot, with an emotional confirmation by Elfrið.

The door opened practically by itself, enticing the Ring Master to step in, just as she did. Inside, it seemed plain enough, with a couch in front of a few windows, and several other doors. One of which Kisthæ assumed to be the bedroom, the other the bathroom.

They must've known she was alone, she thought, as she walked into the kitchen that was located in the same large room that the couch was. Nothing was in the fridge, so she raided the cabinets, and found a package of peanuts, which she quickly picked up and sat on the floor to devour.

_Later, I'll have to take a shower_. _I guess I haven't taken one since I got on the ship. Can't imagine it'll be any easier here in the Battle Zone... Should keep my tags on me. Hopefully I won't die in the night._


	2. Chapter 2

Eventually, Kisthæ had simply fallen asleep on the couch with her food, facing the back of the couch and comfortably curled under a blanket. She was awoken by the sound of Elfrið's voice, who was telling her to get up and shower, or something; as much as Kisthæ didn't want to, she grudgingly agreed, and rolled onto the floor with a large thud.

''Kisthæ! What in the seven realms are you doing?'' Elfrið questioned her.

''I know not, your majesty!'' Kisthæ mumbled to the carpeted floor. ''But I know, I would like to try again...''

''Bloody hell. Get up, go shower. The first thing you have to do is go out and get your food, you know, you're not going to live long if you don't do that.'' Elfrið seemed quite annoyed at this point, so Kisthæ grudgingly agreed with him, and stood up.

She put the ebony Ring on, and when he materialized, she pointed him to the couch. ''I'm locking the door, I expect you to be more gentlemanly than your clothes portray you to be.''

Elfrið made a snarky comment, but she ignored it, not even half-hearing what he had said. When Kisthæ was in the bathroom, she locked the door, and stared into the mirror. It had been a while since she had actually seen her reflection, where it was not portrayed on the glassy water of the ocean on the long journey to Eden.

Her appearance, however, was slightly shocking. Throughout the time, she had kept her natural appearance, with no dirt or mud seemingly. Kisthæ knew it was there, but the question was simply _where_.

White hair stretched down from the top of her head, to the collarbones of her neck. It brushed over her right eye, most of the time, until she got bothered to push it out of the way; and, at the base of the strands, it usually started to curl up all the way to her ear in perfect ringlets.

Kisthæ sighed, leaning against the sink to brush her bangs from her face. She slowly moved back, and lifted her shirt over her head, baring a scar that ran from her right hip to her chest. She didn't feel it anymore, but it always warranted such cruel taunts from others, so she preferred to keep it hidden at all times.

While she let the shower water warm up, she took off the rest of her clothes, and jumped quickly into the shower. The hot water felt extremely kind to her skin, after being used to cold water on the ship for so long; several minutes were simply spent lavishing in the water's wake.

''Kisthæ, you should hurry up. If we leave soon, there's less of a chance for random encounters.''

Elfrið scared her into starting to clean her hair with the odd bottles she found located in the back of the shower. Most of it smelled like mint, which she loved, and some of it smelled faintly like lavender.

As she shut off the water, and opened the curtain, Elfrið was staring in the mirror with a brush going through his own hair. Kisthæ screamed, and shut the curtain, hiding behind it with fear stretched across her heart.

''How did you get in?'' she half-yelled, half-asked.

''Isn't it obvious, mate?'' Elfrið replied, laughing. ''Extra-terrestrial spirit, at your order.''

Kisthæ reached out from the shower, grasping two towels, and being sure to not show any more than her arm. The shower swallowed the towels back up, and Elfrið shrugged, leaving the bathroom. ''I'll be waiting for you outside the room.''

She once more ignored him, frustrated that he would dishonor her in such a way. Certainly, this would be a spirit she'd love, since he had the odd touch of knowing just what to do to piss her off.

The room was cold when she stepped out, and shook off her hair, pulling on the clothes that she left on the floor. The strange thing was, they were located just by the towels, clean and folded. She'd thank Elfrið later for cleaning them, but she just wanted to get some food for the two of them.

''Elfrið! Thank you for cleaning these,'' Kisthæ said as she left the bathroom, and hurried to pull on a pair of sandals.

''Please, don't mention it,'' he replied with a smile.

''I actually will. It's kinda creepy, though I won't dwell over that thought for fear I won't be able to speak to you again.''

She walked out the door, and locked it behind Elfrið, checking again to make sure she had both dog tags and money. As they walked down the street, her Spirit couldn't help but notice the shattered shards of what seemed to be pottery on the ground. He knelt slowly, and picked it up with a gasp, turning to Kisthæ.

''We must go to the blacksmith immeidately.''

''Is your sword broken, or...'' Kisthæ simply let her voice trail off. She didn't see what the problem was, or why Elfrið was suddenly so worried.

He simply turned and began to run. Kisthæ hurried after him, and Elfrið yelled at her why he had to go to the blacksmithery so quickly.

''It's a shattered Ring, Kisthæ!''


	3. Chapter 3

As soon as the words hit her, she started running faster, and caught up to Elfrið. He turned right at the first intersection in the street, and they were standing in front of the blacksmithery, with Elfrið hurrying inside.

''What can I do for you?'' asked a burly man behind the counter, smoking a cigar. He coughed after he spoke, and Kisthæ was tempted to blow the smoke away with her hand, but she was more focuesed on restoring the Ring and the poor soul inside.

''Fix this Ring. Please. Now. Any cost. I don't care.'' Elfrið shoved the remnants of the Ring on the counter, and the blacksmith took the shards, turning around to the forge in the back and disappearing into the room.

''Elfrið? Do you know that Ring?'' Kisthæ asked, turning to her Spirit and his hushed urgency.

''I do.''

''Then... Who is it?''

''An old friend of mine.'' His voice seemed to crack, so she stepped forward and hugged him silently as Elfrið leaned his head against hers.

''It'll be alright. I'm sure he'll come out of the Ring just fine.''

The blacksmith came back into the room, holding the Ring out to Kisthæ. She took the Ring.

''100,'' the man growled.

She put the money on the counter, and walked out the store, placing the ring on her finger and watching as another Spirit was summoned besides Elfrið. To Kisthæ, he appeared to look just like Elfrið; he had the same coat, except his was blue and black, and his hair was sandy blonde instead of Elfrið's natural blonde.

The two stared at each other for a second, before the swords were out and they were striking for each other. Kisthæ stepped out of range, watching the two; she was certainly unwilling to let them duel it out for a bit, rather than end up with a sword through herself.

It took some time, but the two eventually calmed down enough to face each other with their swords in their scabbards, and Kisthæ between them.

''So, what's his name again?'' she asked Elfrið.

''He calls himself Istarf. Sollen bastard, he is,'' Elfrið replied, spitting on the ground where Istarf stood.

''And you were excited to rescue him... Why?''

''Because, of course, he couldn't resist my beautiful charm!'' squealed Istarf, throwing his arms around Elfrið and hugging him close. ''Oh, my brother, you must've missed me so!''

Kisthæ turned and snorted, walking a few feet away so that she was no longer in the range of Elfrið's arms. Istarf, however, let go of him when she started to laugh, and frowned at his friend. ''You're not a very good lover, are you? I thought that Mits taught you a lesson, but I guess she didn't, did she?'' He sighed, and turned away, prancing in a slight circle for unknown reasons.

''Let's just get going. I'm sure we're all hungry, and I could really use a variety in my diet.'' Kisthæ started walking, not caring whether the other two were going to follow her or not, and found the food store.

Or whatever it was called.

It didn't really have a name, Kisthæ noticed, it was more or less... just _there_.

She stepped in, pulling the rest of the money from her pocket, and wandered around the store. The door opened again, and Elfrið and Istarf walked in, continuously yelling at each other to the point where the shop-keeper was ready to ask them to leave. As he stepped closer, the two pulled their swords out, and pointed them at the chubby man without looking at him.

Kisthæ laughed softly, as she pulled three bags of one-day food supplies. It'd be a bother, trying to get food every day like this, but it would be easier now with two spirits instead of one. Even if they loved fighting with each other.

The food was finally paid for, and she started walking through the door again, knowing they would follow once they realized she was gone.

Someone whistled across the street, and Kisthæ looked up, seeing a young teenage boy flipping a Ring into the air and catching it. ''You're awful young to be out here on your own,'' he said, ''especially when you look so hot.''

Elfrið and Istarf, naturally, heard this and immediately perked up. Despite their swords in their scabbards, they stepped forward, and in front of Kisthæ protectively. She sighed, knowing it would end with a skirmish, and one or either of them going back into their ring.

''Just don't kill each other,'' she sighed, turning back to sit on the curb.

''I take it you challenge the lady?'' Istarf asked, stepping forward with one foot.

''I do, mate, and it certainly doesn't involve you sodden bastards.''

''Oh! A lively one!'' Elfrið squealed, clapping his hands. ''Do let me take care of this one, won't you, old chap?''

''I haven't fought a battle in a while, now. I think I'll be able to handle this.''

Istarf withdrew his sword, gently poking the pavement with it. The sword neither dulled nor sharpened, but the pavement had received several holes, and the Spirit found that adequate enough for the time being.

From the other side of the street, a women stepped out from besides the teenage boy, which surprised Istarf into slightly dropping his sword. She held a longbow in her hands, and was dressed in what appeared to be an old Indian saree. It was black as dark chocolate, a sad thought to Kisthæ, but the bow-holder seemed quite confident in her actions.

Istarf immediately sprinted to the other side of the street, his sword raised, as he let out the battle cry of the Scottish Highlanders.

The woman raised her bow, arrow knocked, and immediately let the first arrow go before firing a second one. Istarf managed to block the first arrow, but the second one went straight into his right eye, and he ripped it out quite painfully before continuing to charge.

''Istarf!'' Kisthæ and Elfrið yelled in unison.

He ignored them, or at least, was too busy dodging arrows to truly reply. When he was close enough, he swung his sword beneath the bow, being careful to stay out of its line of fire. His sword touched her on the stomach, although she pushed forward with her bow, and managed to push him onto his back.

''Done,'' the boy said, grinning. ''I'll tell you what, love, if you give me all your tags... I'll save your Spirit here.''

The bow-holder remained still above Istarf, her bow ready to fire at the moment's notice.

Kisthæ quickly pulled off her tags, throwing them at the boy. He caught them, nodded to his Spirit, and the two fled into the alley.

Elfrið was the first at Istarf's side, kneeling and gently smoothing his friend's hair down. Istarf, in return, placed his hand on Elfrið's cheek and whispered, ''Please. No Yaoi.''

The two laughed, and Elfrið stood up, nodding to Kisthæ. ''He just needs to go in his Ring. He'll be fine, besides the fact he'll probably never see in his right eye again.'' He turned to Istarf, and whispered, ''All the better chances to me, eh?''

He dodged a kick, and then Istarf was gone, back in his Ring. Kisthæ took off the polished white one, and grinned. It was the perfect opposite of Elfrið's; maybe they were a perfect two after all.


	4. Chapter 4

When they were finally back at Kisthæ's apartment, she placed the three bags on the counter, poking at one of them very curiously. ''Well... Fight you for his rations?'' she asked teasingly, placing them all in the fridge.

''Yeah. That will go over well, eh?'' the Spirit replied with a laugh, sitting down on the couch and stretching out.

''Why don't you go... Shower or something? Those old clothes are starting to smell.'' She waved her hand in front of her nose emphatically, and continued to say, ''I'll make something for lunch. I'm sure you're starving. And if Istarf feels up to it, I'm sure he can come out and join us.''

''Thank you for the offer, my lady; I will glady accept, and accompany you when the food is done.'' Istarf seemed happy enough to Kisthæ, so she did not press the subject, and turned to the fridge to see what she could find to make.

All that was really available were the basics. She found something that appeared to resemble pasta, and grabbed it, placing it on the counter before looking for a pot.

The process was simple enough, besides hearing Elfrið singing in the shower, and pausing to laugh every few moments. He came out just as Kisthæ was pulling plates out from the cabinets, with a towel wrapped around his waist and a growling stomach.

She kept her focus in tune with finishing dinner, attempting to not notice how perfectly... _sculpted_, it seemed, his chest was.

Kisthæ stabbed herself with a fork as soon as her thoughts drifted to Istarf. She could hear him laughing, too, which made everything worse – living with these two would be the near end of her, if she could keep her thoughts off them for more than a few seconds.

Elfrið was sitting at the table, yawning; Kisthæ pushed a plate in front of him, which he quickly pulled closer, and started to eat without a second's hesitation. Istarf appeared just behind Kisthæ, and poked her side, which caused her to jump and nearly drop the plate she was holding.

''I won't give you food if you won't behave yourself!'' she yelled, pulling it back in the kitchen and putting some of the pasta on it, and getting her own plate.

Istarf sat on one of the chairs, faking to be grumpy, but quickly dropped it and started to eat when he saw the food in front of him.

''I won't be able to feed you two if you keep eating like this.'' Kisthæ sighed. It was only mid-day, too, and she just wanted to go back and sleep.

''Well, I heard something new. Apparently there's a thirteenth Zodiac on the loose, and it's hard to beat.'' Istarf shrugged. ''I'd love to see one. Not that I'd be able to fight it, with this eye, but certainly it'd be fun to watch.''

Elfrið frowned. ''What are you suggesting? I risk my own hide so you can sleep with the wolf fur? Not very likely!''

''And what if this beautiful woman says it's okay?'' Istarf shot back, petting Kisthæ's arm. She pulled it away, quite upset, but interested in the subject of a thirteenth dog tag.

''Then she can kiss your ass, mate.'' Elfrið stood up, grabbing his plate, and dumping it in the sink. He left, presumably to Kisthæ's bedroom, and closed the door behind him.

''You pissed him off.'' She looked at Istarf. ''Teach me how to do it!'' she whispered, laughing.

''I can hear you, thanks, and I'd much prefer both of you don't plot to kill me or something by the age of 7,000.'' His voice trailed off, and was followed by snoring, which Istarf laughed at.

''Oh, how I've missed life.'' He stood, and bowed to Kisthæ. ''If you excuse me, my dear, I am afraid I must leave now and go back to my Ring. It will take a while yet for this eye to heal.''

Kisthæ stood, and curtseyed to him in response, watching until he was gone to clean up both of their plates. It was quiet, now, and that bothered her; she eventually reached back for her purse that she had on the boat, and found her old bamboo flute that her father gave her after an Arabian paleological dig site.

Her only memory of home, to be traded away should she be found dead.


	5. Chapter 5

''Wake up, Miss Starshine! We must go out before the sun does~"

Istarf was shaking Kisthæ; she knew this only by the sound of his singing, and waved at his arm in a desperate attempt to sleep. She was so unbelievably tired, and would give anything to sleep for a whole day, despite the fact that too many things would go wrong in the day.

Unwillingly, she stood up, and stretched her arms with a yawn. Istarf teasingly pulled at her shirt to get her moving, and she was in the bathroom in five seconds, a sprint across at least 30 yards. He laughed as Kisthæ shut the door, locked it, and tossed random scented oils on it in hopes that it would smell at least a bit more girly to ward them off.

She turned the hot water on once more, and skipped taking off her clothes, falling into the basin of the bathtub and laying down. The water pounded against Kisthæ's stomach, and she sighed, gently pulling up her shirt so that it would massage her stomach.

Eventually, she got out of the bath and put a towel on, hanging her clothes to dry. The apartment was seemingly empty, despite the fact that she still had both rings on.

The fridge was stocked with the supplies for a breakfast from yesterday, and she pulled them out, gently throwing whatever cereal-like substance was in each bag and tossing some milk on top. Kisthæ was the first to sit down and eat, which started to worry her – usually somebody would be up by now.

''Kisthæ, there's a gift for you on the couch,'' Elfrið yelled from the bedroom.

_Sodden bastard_, she thought, _he still gets to sleep in_.

''Thanks,'' she called back, and continued eating.

''Thank him when you see it!'' Istarf replied, popping up from the couch and grabbing his own food.

''I'll add that to my list of the other hundred things I have to do today, thanks.'' Kisthæ raised her spoon in a half-toast, and pushed her bowl away, finished with the food.

She stood up, and wandered over to the couch, where a golden dress lay. Kisthæ picked it up in awe; the shimmering material glided over her fingers like a liquid would, and she grinned happily, biting her lip so that she wouldn't squeal with an overload of excitement.

Kisthæ jumped to the bathroom, forgetting to close the door, and immediately took off her towel to put the dress on.

''That's a nasty scar,'' Istarf commented, _tsk_-ing quietly.

She slammed the door closed with her foot, hearing it hit his face, though she didn't feel bad this round. She was holding the dress to her chest for several minutes, until she found it alright to finally move, and slipped the dress over her head.

It fell perfectly into place, like one of the old tailored dresses she had. Her chest was perfectly accented with a dip into a slim waist, and back over her hips, falling half-way down her thighs. The gold satin was embroidered with black dragons and other mystical beings, like the old Japanese yukata robes her mother used to tell her about.

Kisthæ tied a black ribbon in her hair – one she found in the drawers of the sink – and twirled before the mirror. She hadn't looked this good since... Well, never, really.

''Thank you, Elfrið!'' she yelled as she stepped out of the bathroom, stepping on Istarf's warm carcass that was perfectly placed before the bathroom door. ''It's so beautiful... I'll never be able to thank you.''

''You honor me simply by wearing it,'' Elfrið replied, stepping out of the bedroom.

He was wearing a golden suit, that was embroidered just like her own dress, and had a beautiful black top hat on. He bowed to Kisthæ, and Kisthæ curtseyed, her heart jumping and skipping wildly.

''There is rumored to be a Gala tonight,'' he told her. ''I ask you, will you be my guest?''

Kisthæ gasped softly. Istarf even lifted his head, surprised.

''Istarf, you're invited as well,'' he said with a grin.

''I'd be honored to accompany you,'' Kisthæ finally said, her face beginning to blush. ''I... I'm...'' She turned away, hands on her cheeks, with fear that she would say the wrong thing in her surprise.

Istarf frowned. ''But I don't have anything to wear...''

He quickly dodged a flying shoe, and walked into Elfrið's room, intending to find something to wear.

Elfrið sighed. ''We should go get today's food, I guess,'' he told Kisthæ. ''Probably get challenged on our way there, so we can get some money, and maybe some day fix that poor fool's eye.''

''I hear you, thanks!'' Istarf yelled back. ''You're a lousy date, you know?!''

Kisthæ bit back a laugh, and opened the door, with Elfrið walking out first.

It took a few minutes of walking in the streets, but as soon as the sun started to rise, a challlenger wandered out of the alley. She didnt't say a word, but Elfrið was quickly fighting with what seemed to be a Mage of some sort that was firing her spells straight for the two of them.

Kisthæ herself was continuously dodging, waiting for Elfrið to end the fight. He finally did, with a cut that sliced off her right arm; her staff arm.

The Mage fell to the ground with a scream as blood decorated Elfrið's suit. He frowned, pulling at it. ''I guess I'll take this to the cleaner's while we're out...''

She grinned, and looked at the other Spirit's owner. ''All your money. And all your tags.''

Her face flashed with fear, but she threw the items on the ground, and kneeled to help her Mage. Horns grew from the frosted green hair, and she hissed something, it seemed, to Elfrið. He shrugged and picked up what they had earned, walking down the street.

Back at the apartment, Istarf had decided simply on his normal blue outfit, and was laying on the couch snoring. Kisthæ looked at Elfrið questioningly as she walked into the kitchen, and put the new food in the fridgerator.

''Wake up sleepy head, there's a pink frog on your face!'' Elfrið yelled, scaring Kisthæ into jumping.

Istarf, however, had jumped off the couch and was rubbing at his face, screaming. Elfrið collapsed laughing, and Kisthæ joined him, leaning against the counter for support. It took a few minutes, but they could finally stop laughing.

''Elfrið... Please just tell me we don't need to take that back to the tailors,'' Kisthæ gasped, her chest hurting terribly.

''No. Your dress?''

''We're good then... Where's Istarf?''

''On the floor... Crying. Showing off that manliness of his.''

Kisthæ started crawling across the floor, feeling too weak to stand up and properly walk. She saw that Istarf was indeed, crying, and lay down next to him, hugging him to the best of her ability.

''Was that Elfrið being a meany to you?''

Istarf nodded.

''What is it about pink frogs?'' she whispered to Elfrið.

''There was poisonous pink frogs in his mansion forever ago. Killed his mum.'' He shrugged, and slowly picked himself up, taking a few shaky steps.

Kisthæ stared at him. ''My gods! You're terrible!'' she shrieked, sitting up. ''How could you?!''

''The oppurtunity presented itself. I took the oppurtunity. Is there anything wrong?''

''Of course there's something wrong! You probably ruined his whole day, you...'' Kisthæ let her sentence trail off before helping Istarf to stand. ''Come on, mate, we'll get you cleaned up.''

Istarf nodded absent-mindedly. It was a slow walk to the bathroom, but he eventually made it, and sat against the wall as Kisthæ let the water slowly warm up before filling the tub. He sighed.

''I loved my mom. I told him that so many times, and he has to go scream that every time I'm sleeping...''

Kisthæ laid her hand against his cheek, smiling softly. ''Come on. A bath will make you feel better.''

It was easier to get him to stand up this time. He seemed reluctant enough to take off his clothes in front of Kisthæ, but she stepped outside for a few moments, promising not to peak. Istarf stepped into the water with a sigh, his skin feeling scalded, but comforted just at the same time.

''Please come in,'' he said. ''I'd like some company.''

''Hope you don't mind, then.'' Kisthæ walked in slowly, hoping he was decently covered. He was, with the shower curtain partially closed, up to his face. He grinned at her drunkly, and she smiled back, feeling cheerier.

''Glad you're feeling so well.'' She looked behind her, and once she was sure Elfrið was clear, pulled out a bottle of wine and two cups. ''Stashed it the other night. Toast with me?''  
''Most certainly so.'' Istarf took a cup, and raised it slightly. ''To Kisthæ... And all her winely goodness. May her dress be forever clean and her hair forever bright.'' He toasted it, and Kisthæ did as well, tipping her head back to take a drink.


	6. Chapter 6

Elfrið lifted his arm to Kisthæ. She took it with a smile, and they walked out of the building happily, Istarf on the other side of Kisthæ. There were few people out on the streets; thankfully, none of them seemed interested in fighting at that point in time, and were more intent on making it to their destination.

Her heels clicked gently across the ground, as did the other various heels, creating a sound that was immensely unique to that moment; to Kisthæ, it sounded somewhat like shimmering hand bells, the sort of sound that appeared near Christmas.

Before it had been too long, lights shone from a building ahead, and the three walked up the steps. It was a laborous move, mainly because Kisthæ's dress had been tightened to slim her figure a bit, despite her stern warnings against doing so, and slowed movement.

Elfrið insisted on it, however, and she simply agreed that it would have to be the best for now.

At the door, someone stopped the three of them from walking in. Kisthæ was slightly disheartened; there was no problem with anyone entering, as long as they were dressed properly – it wasn't like they were serving food here or anything.

The man told her that she would have to leave. Apparently, only her two spirits would be allowed at this event, since she was too new to the battle zone to be eligible for entrance.

Kisthæ curtseyed kindly to her two spirits; she refused to let them lose out on a night just because she wasn't allowed. They reluctantly walked through the doors, arm in arm, and she trotted back down the steps, loosening the corset that had tightened against her skin all night. There were probably marks, too, she realized with a sigh; what a long night it would be, without any of that old ice cream to cheer her up and fill her stomach.

In the darkened alley shortcut to the apartments, she heard the whisper of a laugh behind her.

Immediately, Kisthæ's feet broke into a run, fearing it was a Cleaner. The laughter kept getting louder, despite the pace of her feet, and her long-dropped heels far behind her; she thought she was running towards it, but it was absolutely impossible, the sound was behind her when she hit the street.

Just as she did, she felt a coldness in her stomach. She stopped running near-immediately, her breath shortened, and looked down.

Through Kisthæ was a sword.

She fell to her knees, face-forward, and leaned against the pavement with her hand. Blood was being coughed up, and she held her free hand on her stomach.

_Oh, Gods, please... Don't let me die here_...

Her thoughts were meaningless, even to her; slowly, she fell to her side, the patter of footsteps coming from the alley just as a whisper of black passed by.

''Kisthæ!'' Elfrið yelled, dropping besides her. Istarf was there as well, nervously kneeling.

''You two...'' She smiled softly. ''Take care of yourselves. Hope you two end up together, instead of against, but...'' Kisthæ broke off coughing. ''Take my flute with you. You'll know where to find it, Elfrið.''

She reached for his hand, and squeezed it, before the cold limb dropped to the ground. Elfrið looked at Istarf; it only took a few minutes before they were both gone, but their Rings remained intact on the fingers of their Master, to be collected by a Cleaner and returned to a new coming Master in Eden.


End file.
